


He's getting married in the morning....

by LittleSpider



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Bachelor Party, Canon Divergent, Cold Feet, Drunk Harry, Drunk Merlin, Everyone lives okay?, Harry Hart is a sad drunk, Harry Lives, Harry has cold feet, Hartwin wedding, M/M, Merlin has a dirty mind when drunk, Merlin is a Little Shit (Kingsman), Non canon compliant, Singing Merlin, Stag Night, Wedding, background Hartwin, merlin lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 00:17:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12287247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSpider/pseuds/LittleSpider
Summary: Harry Hart is about to marry his young lover Eggsy Unwin and his best friend Merlin will not let him leave bachelor life without a damn good send off.The following, is the aftermath of what a Scotsman considers a damn good send off





	He's getting married in the morning....

 

 

The sound of hushed giggling and urgent 'shushes' punctuated by titters of laughter were muffled by the thick door of Harry's house, and as the key scraped the lock three or four times there were finally hissed, slurred words:

“Merlin, shush...my neighbours!”

“...I dinnae care, open the door, I'm bustin' t'piss everywhere!”

There was a peal of soft laughter as he finally opened the door, only to stagger four steps in, and brace himself against the painted staircase, laughing as he did.

Harry's hair was wild, tousled and beginning to curl as Merlin brought up the rear, his green field jacket open, his black tie loosened considerably and his hand on the fly of his trousers.

“Out m'way!” he declared imperiously. “I'm dyin' fae a slash.”

Merlin charged into Harry's downstairs bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind him as Harry collapsed unceremoniously onto the third step of his stairs and attempted to undo his shoe laces.

“Oh! Harry! This fuckin' dug's lookin' at me!” Merlin bellowed from the bathroom.

Harry laughed soundlessly and threw his head back.

“It's alright Merlin...It's alright...he's dead...he's been dead for years...” He stood up, and holding onto the bannister, batted the door closed with his free hand.

“Ach!” Merlin declared. “It doesnae bother me! I've pissed in worse conditions...” There was the unmistakable sound of a stream of fluid hitting a pool of still water and a deep sigh of exhilaration. “Y'know...I've spent £120.00 t'night. And I'm pissing £73.50 of it away.”

Harry laughed and tripped into the living room, his long legs proving a little more of a challenge with the liquor he was holding.

They had drunk more than they certainly should have tonight, and judging by the way Harry was having trouble sorting out his shoe laces, and the strength of Merlin's accent, they were a long way from Kansas.

“...HARRY! Is this pink stuff in the bottle soap?”

Harry groaned from where he had poured himself into the couch.

“What stuff?”

“The pink stuff!”

“I don't bloody know!”

“Fuck it! I'm using it!”

Harry rolled onto his side on the couch, curling up slightly and smacking his lips.

“...Merlin...Merlin...I'm parched...go and get me a drink.”

Merlin came out of the bathroom, in control of his limbs at least and wiping his hands on a towel.

“Get it y'sen.”

“Merrrlinnnn....” whined Harry, looking at him with a big brown eye from his position on the couch. “You're my best maaaaannnnn. Please get me a drink before I surely perish!”

Merlin looked at him appraisingly for a few moments before correcting his glasses clumsily.

“Go boil y'head y'fanny.”

He still moved towards the kitchen to do as he was asked.

Harry smiled satisfactorily. If Eggsy got Roxy to do his bidding as his best man, then surely he got Merlin to do his bidding, if only for the stag night.

“I've worked it out...” came Merlin's imperious tone from the kitchen. “I was doin' alright until that fuckin' kebab!”

Harry opened his eye, and raised his head.

“What are you talking about?”

“If I hadnae have eaten, I'd have been fine!”

Harry staggered to his feet.

“If I had sent you back to HQ off your fine Scottish tits without anything to line your stomach, you could have caused yourself any form of mischief! And possibly caused a catastrophic security breach...when you...” he paused to secretly belch behind his hand. “...vomit on the console.”

Merlin walked back towards him, and forcibly pushed the tumbler of water into his hand.

“Right y'are. I'll stay here t'night!”

Harry shook his head, putting his hand on his hip.

“ ...No. No. Daisy is going to be home, first thing tomorrow, and this place has to be the _epitimime_....The _epitime_....the _epitomome_...”

Both men started chuckling, then guffawing, Merlin reached out to steady Harry and laughed thickly, wheezing as Harry burst out laughing, throwing his head back.

“...it has to be the... _example_... of perfection!” Harry finally managed to explain.

Merlin put a steadying hand either side of Harry's shoulders, his reddened eyes, boring into the single brown eye

“Harry...Harry...Listen t'me...i'm'y'oldest... _livin_ ' friend...aye?”

“...Are you taking the piss out of my...?” he asked, raising his hand to his blacked out lens.

Merlin shook his head.

“Am I y'oldest livin' friend?!”

“Yes!”

“You're bums out the windae. Y'talkin' shite...let m'stay the night. Make sure y'sleep...aye?”

Harry considered it. And although it didn't make much sense, it was a plan. And any stable plan at present was a way forwards.

“Alright...Alright...” he agreed.

Merlin patted his cheek.

“Good man. Where d'y'keep the Scotch?”

Harry gestured vaguely to where he kept his spirits and sat back down.

“...Merlin?”

“Aye?” he asked opening the cabinets and looking for the spirits.

“...Have you ever considered getting married?”

There was a thick silence before Merlin answered, slightly more sober than before as the sound of Scotch splashing into the glass preceded it.

“...I've told y'before. I'm no' marriage material.” Merlin paused and offered Harry a glass. “B'sides. I'm married t'the job.”

Harry took the glass, and held it between the gulf of his parted knees.

“I was a confirmed Bachelor.” he replied. “...Never had aspirations of marriage. Companionship. Love...”

“Aye.” Merlin agreed, sitting opposite and managing to cross his legs neatly. “Aye, then y'met ye little _boy toy._ ”

Harry sighed and shook his head.

“I fell in love with someone I wanted to...” He hiccuped. “...live with for all my days.”

Merlin tilted his head, considering it.

“P'haps. If there ever came a time, when I didnae want t'do this job any more. Or if I found someone...who makes me feel the way that y'clearly feel about Eggsy...P'haps then...I might feel inclined to wed them.”

Harry looked to his friend.

“...Have you ever been in love, Merlin?”

Merlin leaned forwards, putting his glass on the table and missing the coaster altogether.

“...I dinnae want t'discuss this. I want tae discuss the fact that in...” He looked at his watch, screwing up his eyes. “...three weeks, y'are gonna be _Mr. Unwin_.”

Harry looked at him, scrutinizing him.

“...Despite the fact that I'm probably more drunk than I've been for quite a time...I know you're bullshitting me.”

Merlin pinned him, lopsidedly with a stare, folding his arms in an attempt to appear serious.

“What was her name?” Harry pressed.

Merlin looked away.

Harry gave up, and putting his own glass down, hung his head forwards, supporting his sweaty, greasy forehead on the cradle of his long, cool fingers.

“My mouth feels like a fucking doormat.” he muttered to himself before being startled by a loud, and discordant sound.

“O! my luve is like a red, red rose!” boomed Merlin, in a thick Scottish Brogue. “That's newly sprung in June;”

“Oh God...” Harry groaned into his interlocked fingers as he raised his head.

“O, my luve is like a melodie!” Merlin sang, standing, with no consideration for neighbours or Harry's head. “...That's sweetly played in tune.

Singing As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I; And I will luve thee still, my dear, till a' the seas gang dry.”

“Shut up!” Harry half yelled, half pleaded, pulling a plump, red pillow over his head in an attempt to silence him.

“And I will luve tee still, my dear...”

Harry shifted the pillow as Merlin paused, his eyes closed, standing, swaying slightly, slowly sliding the pillow down his face.

Merlin took a deep breath, and louder still, he continued.

“Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun; O, fare thee weel awhile! And I will come agian, my luve, Tho' 'twere ten thousand miles. Tho' 'twere then thousand mile, my luve,”

“Do you have anything...less...maudlin...less loud...?” Harry asked, looking up at him.

“Y'heartless Bastar'. Me granda' used tae sing that t'ma granny...” Merlin huffed, sitting down and taking up his glass again.

Harry got to his feet and moved towards the kitchen to get a drink from the kitchen.

He staggered towards the sink, and upon reaching it, placed his hands on the cool enamel, trying to stabilize himself.

“We are very lucky...” he began. “We were not arrested.”

“How?” Merlin asked.

Harry turned on the tap, watching the cool, promising water flow into from the faucet into the basin.

“You almost got us kicked out of that...what place was it? The pub. The eighth one.”

“The Hart?” Merlin offered.

“Yes! You nearly got us kicked out of the Hart!”

“Aye.” there was a grin in his voice. “I did.”

“You and your bloody Scottish 'twenty'.”

“By the eighth pub I was ragin', none of the bastar's would take it!” Merlin explained, as though it were the reason for his behaviour.

“You didn't have to offer to show the barmaid something else authentically Scottish!”

There was a burst of what could be considered dirty laughter from the drawing room.

“She's lucky I wasnae wearin' mah kilt for easy access!”

Harry was starting to feel sick, and the flowing water was not helping the sloshing feeling in his stomach. He pawed it off and braced himself.

“Oh Merlin...” Harry gulped. “I feel really ill now.”

“Y'stopped drinkin' ya great bawbag. Get the rest o'this Scotch down ye.” Merlin said, from the sound of the effort in the grunt, he was now standing.

Harry rested his head against the edge of the basin and heard Merlin come in the kitchen, putting the scotch on the table.

“Merlin.” Harry murmured. “Be honest with me.”

“Always.”

Harry swallowed down nausea.

“Should I ruin that boys life by marrying him?”

Merlin walked over, and leaned against the sink in a feat of agility that no drunk man should be capable of.

“Aye. Y'both deserve t'make each other as unhappy as the next het--” He belched. “Heterosexual couple.”

Harry gave a soft laugh, panting warm, sick air into the sink, over the breakfast plates.

Merlin put his arm around Harry, and leaned in, muttering against his ear.

“Y'made f'one another and all that shite.”

Harry raised his head.

“You think so, Merlin?”

“I know y'are.” he confirmed. “I've seen enough of ye in y'tender moments.”

Harry gave a faint smile.

“Merlin...this will be the only time that I will ask you this.”

“Aye?”

“Take me to bed.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

“This'll be the only time I'll agree.”

With that, he took Harry's hand, and pulled him in a firemans lift over his shoulder as Harry groaned.

Merlin carried Harry towards the stairs, still humming the Scottish love song he had a little earlier.

 


End file.
